In Defense of A Muggle
by Nacouli's Fires
Summary: It's been said that Harry's horcrux/scar could have negatively affected the Dursley family, causing them to mistreat Harry. What if it was wizard-kind as a whole that affected them, however? One tiny difference will change the fate of the wizarding world as a whole. The real question is, is the change for the better, or worse? **On hiatus until I can find a beta ** (Email me!)
1. Chapter 1

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name. "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their son - he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?"

"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."

The truth was that Mr. Dursley was very worried indeed, despite his silence. Though he had never met young Harry, he _had_ met his parents, and in a private conversation that his wife was, quite thankfully, unaware of, he had been taken aside by the slightly younger James for a short conference that would surely change his life.

…

 _Vernon sipped at his tea aggressively, if that was at all possible, and glared at the young man in front of him. He knew that he was one of_ those kind _that his wife had told him about, but she had never mentioned the unsettling feeling that he seemed to experience whenever one of_ them _was nearby. It was worse than a stomach ache, but not as bad as his ulcer. It was a constant thing, almost as if to warn his body that something dangerous was near, he felt._

 _The young man glanced up, a smile halfway on his face before he noticed the mood of his observer. He seemed confused before his eyes seemed to widen in alarm. He quickly leaned toward his fiancee' and whispered a word in her ear before rising._

" _Vernon! Care to help me with the- ah, the dishes?" His eyes flicking back and forth anxiously as he motioned to the kitchen._

 _The feeling multiplied, almost as if an alarm was going off. Regardless, he stood. Now was the perfect time to tell that freak just exactly what he and his instincts thought of his- his freakishness. He climbed to his feet, noticing the rapidly increasing struggle as his weight increased. He had taken to stress-eating after encounters with his soon-to-be inlaws, and with the wedding approaching, and their meetings becoming more and more frequent, it was beginning to show._

 _As he entered the small kitchen of the young couple's new London flat, he saw that the dishes were, in fact, cleaning themselves. "What's this all about, Potter?" He hissed._

 _The raven-haired man raised his hands in surrender. "No need to panic, Vern."_

" _Don't call me that!" He hissed back, an automatic response to the well-tread argument._

" _Er-right. Sorry. Let's cut right to the point here. You feel it, don't you? The uneasiness, when you're around my kind?"_

 _Vernon nearly choked on his own saliva, and visibly paled, suddenly nervous. Was this some sort of execution?! Potter nearly sagged in relief, which wasn't at all what he had expected of him._

" _Phew! And here I thought you just hated my guts for being a wizard! That feeling is perfectly normal around mugg- er, mundane folk like yourself. It's a reaction to the magical aura we put out. It...interferes with normal emotion for those who aren't used to it."_

 _He paused in his tirade to pull a small chain from his pocket. It was a small, black, almost glass-like prism that hung from a thin gold chain. It seemed at once to both absorb and put off light. It captured his attention completely until the wizard began to speak again._

" _This is pure obsidian. Normally, it wouldn't do much except look pretty and_ maybe _block a bout of accidental magic or two, if you were lucky, but this is wizard-mined. Since it's first contact besides the surrounding stone was with a wizard, it changes- essentially becoming a...buffer of sorts to the aura we put off. Left unchecked, it would've altered your personality, even warped your mind. This should fix it completely, if my hunch is right."_

 _Vernon looked at the shining stone with suspicion. He knew the kind of person Potter was. He half expected it to turn him in to a bloody chicken. Reaching out a shaking hand, he grasped the thin chain, immediately feeling a cold rush up his spine._

 _James Potter smirked, his usual cocky grin now back in place. "Told you so."_

…

He had worn the small stone every day since, and had, on more than one occasion, counted himself lucky for having it. Who knows how much he would weigh now, otherwise!

As he and Mrs. Dursley got ready for bed, he turned the thoughts over and over in his head. There were too many coincidences for this to be something that _didn't_ involve the Potters. He felt his pulse quicken and he felt his stomach drop to his feet as the small black stone began to heat up. It became almost unbearably hot before it occurred to him that it might be more than mere heartburn. He began to rummage through his nightstand, throwing various random objects out of the way, quickly disrupting the pristine, almost sterile order that his wife kept their abode in. He ignored her complaints that were, very quickly, rising in pitch.

"Vernon, what do you think you're _doing_?"

He turned, pausing his search even in his desperation.

"Woman, shut the _Hell_ up for once in your god-damned miserable life!"

He went back to searching, before finally finding the mirror that had not seen use in almost a year. He nearly yelled out the name of the one he sought.

"James, answer this bloody contraption!"

Nothing.

He kept trying.

…

Sirius Black had never been described as a rational person. He was often prone to partake in reckless ideas without much forethought, and on more than one occasion, spent an extended amount of time in St. Mungo's due to that fact. However, as he sped across the sky on his newly enchanted motorbike, he was completely focussed. He had felt his stomach drop, and instinctively knew that something was wrong. He had left his flat without another word to his date of the month. The fact that he suddenly knew the location of his best friend after almost a year of complete ignorance could only mean one thing. Voldemort had found them.

…

James Potter woke to a buzzing. As he tried to clear the fog from his mind, he fumbled for his glasses, haphazardly pushing them in place. His nightstand vibrated, and soon, a voice came through.

"-this stupid contraption already! It's hard enough trying to talk to this stupid mirror without- oh give it a rest you nag! Just answer me damn it all!"

That got his attention, and soon, he was more awake than Remus on his fifth pot of coffee. He activated the mirror with the practiced gesture and password.

"Vernon? It's nearly eleven, is everything alright over there?"

"No, everything is not all-bloody-right! I was getting ready for bed when that stupid rock started getting hotter than a ripping skillet, my stomach drops to my feet, and my heart starts racing faster than Black chasing after a pair of twins! Would _someone_ tell me what the fuck is going on?"

James Potter leapt out of bed at that, and dressed as quickly as he could without falling on his face. Holding the mirror in one hand as he stumbled for his pants, his mind began to work. "That's probably the vassal clause. It's a long story, Vern, but that's basically magic calling you to battle. I'll explain when I can, but you need to take advantage of the boost you'll be getting. Your senses will get bolstered, so don't let that throw you. Increased sight, hearing, stuff like that. The short of it is that it's made so that you can properly serve your 'lord' in battle. Think medieval times. The semantics aren't really important. Use that to your advantage. Since it's obvious that the secret is out, that means that that dark lord I told you about-"

"Doldesnort or some such nonsense, right?"

"Er, yeah, him. He could be coming for you and Petunia as well. Remember Peter?"

There was a brief pause on the other side of the mirror. "The rat-looking wimp? The lightweight? What about him?"

Despite the situation, James Potter couldn't help but chuckle, though even Vernon, dull as he sometimes was, could tell that there was no humor in it.. "Yeah. He's the one who betrayed us. You see him? You run."

He was building momentum now, quickly transfiguring dummies of himself and Lily before moving to make sure that his wife was fully aware of the situation. He was about to walk across the hall to the nursery when the door he was leaning to open was flung wide, releasing a red-headed missile.

"I heard everything. Harry's safe in his crib. Noise cancellation wards on every surface, and a stabilization charm on everything not spelled to the floor."

She really did think of everything.

"You do realize that this plan is absolutely insane."

It wasn't a question.

Flashing his most charming grin, James Potter shrugged. "And your point is what, exactly? I've survived this long on just my good looks and skill. What's to say it won't work now? Maybe the tosser is secretly in to younger men."

"You're an idiot." She sighed. "I love you, but why is beyond me."

He knew that they were both hiding their true feelings.

"We'll be fine. All three of us. I promise."

…

As he strode along the sidewalk, the self-styled Lord Voldemort ran his pale hands over the equally pale wand of yew that he had had since he turned eleven. It was a constant presence, and though this would surely be an easy task, he took no small comfort in it. Snape had asked to be rewarded the mudblood of all things, and he had granted the request with a barely restrained eye-roll. He was incredibly predictable. His reverie was broken when a small child, most likely no older than seven, tugged on his cloak. " _The indignity!"_ He thought, tightening his already white-knuckled grip on his weapon.

"Neat vampire costume mister!"

Stopping mid-stride, he turned, ripping his cloak loose from the insolent youth's grasp. His eyes, once a captivating shade of green so dark as to almost be black, now as red as the blood in his veins, narrowed dangerously. Half of the Killing Curse already silently cast, he paused. He was so close to his goal. He couldn't let his exuberance overshadow his plans. Everything had to go off perfectly. He would have to restrain himself. He didn't get to be the most feared dark wizard in nearly a century without being patient, after all.

Turning without another word, he resumed his trek to the small cottage in Godric's Hollow. It was going to be a very good day indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey there folks! I didn't do an introduction in my haste to get the first chapter of this posted, so I'm doing a quick one here. We'll eventually both have a little bit about ourselves in sections of our profile, but for now, I'm Luke. I'll be writing most of the content at this time, as Makayla is currently busy at college studying whatever it is that college students study.**

 **In response to the reception of the first chapter, these first twenty-four hours have been phenomenal! To the three who followed, and five who favorited, thanks a ton! I'll try to live up to your expectations!**

 **I'm trying to keep this short so that I can get on with this wonderful, not-so-little story, but if anyone is up to beta, we would both be incredibly grateful. We try to stay on top of it, but with both of us having a busy schedule, we don't always have time for hobbies. I'll post a poll later on a few different things, so watch out for that, but for now, on with the story!**

…

"We'll be fine. All three of us. I promise."

Emerald eyes shone with an almost frightening determination. "If it comes down to it, James-" she paused, her voice not allowing her to complete the words she had so been dreading. She pushed onward. "If I don't make it-" Another pause. "If it doesn't work, keep him safe."

His face lost all traces of levity then, for once becoming completely serious. "I promise Lils. He's safe with me."

It was then that their lives were changed irreparably, as the front door of their little hideaway was blown to splinters.

...

The image suddenly cut out as an explosion so loud it made the mirror vibrate came across the glass. That couldn't have been good. Swallowing his growing panic, he set down the mirror before rushing to the cupboard under the stairs. Removing his trusty nine-iron, Vernon Dursley began preparing his house to withstand a siege.

He was no longer the rotund man he had been a mere two years earlier, but he was by no means a body-builder. That was why he nearly fell back in shock when the door to the refrigerator he had been trying to move came off of it's hinges.

" _Right. Increased strength."_ He thought to himself. " _Need to remember that."_

He continued his work, picking up the now permanently open fridge and bracing it against the front door with barely a grunt of exertion. The television, couch, and kitchen table came next, all placed in strategic positions in the house, and all moved with an ease that still surprised him after nearly twenty minutes of work.

"I could get used to this," He mumbled, chuckling humorously as he pulled the door to his son's room shut, bending the handle around the frame, pinning it in place. As he effectively shut himself off from his only son, he could not help but worry for his safety above all else. Searching the upper floor for one last obstacle, he came up empty. Weighing his choices, he made a decision. His son's life over his own. Concentrating, he bent his golf club around the handle, the clubhead circling the knob twice, before thrusting the handle and most of the shaft in to the wall, effectively hooking the door in to the surrounding wall.

" _It wouldn't be shaken loose, that's for sure."_

Then, crouching by the stairs, he waited.

…

Peter Pettigrew was a courageous man. He was not chivalrous or noble by any means, but courageous was one thing that he knew himself to be. Many thought of courage as doing good deeds in the face of danger, or making some noble sacrifice. These people were stupid. Courageous actually meant something far more fitting.

Courage, according to the dictionary meant "the ability to do something that frightens one". He was certainly capable of frightening people with his actions. He debated with himself fairly often if it meant doing something that frightened others, which he could certainly do if he pleased, or if it meant doing something despite being frightened _himself_.

He had decided that he fit both definitions quite well. As he looked back at his actions over the past year, he found that his actions did indeed frighten him greatly. He had committed many atrocities as of late, the latest of which still weighed heavily on his mind. He had done what he had sworn never to do. He had betrayed two of his best friends, and in the moment, had been glad to do so.

" _There is no good or evil, Peter. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it."_ The Dark Lord had said. Those words had shaken him to his very core. He was not weak. He had power, he had told him, and even raised his wand to prove his point, the darkness of the alley, he hoped, hiding the fear that he was sure showed plainly on his face.

The Dark Lord had laughed in his face then; a cold, cruel laugh that caused his wand arm to shake.

He did want to fight him, he had said. He had merely come to make an offer.

Like a fool, Peter had listened, but there was no going back now. He had been sucked in too deep, evidenced by the dark black skull on his forearm.

It opened it's maw then, almost as if it were mocking him, like it knew his thoughts. He shuddered.

He had been promised riches beyond his wildest dreams. Money, women, _true_ power, if he only did the Dark Lord one simple favor.

He had balked at the offer at first. He had even laughed in Voldemort's face. Him! Little Peter Pettigrew, laughing the face of the worst monster to attack Britain since Grindewald himself! In the seconds before the _Cruciatus_ hit, he felt on top of the world. He felt invincible. Even as the Dark Lord's eyes narrowed, he had been oblivious. He felt power then. He didn't need some dark tosser to feel powerful! He was a Gryffindor, and a proud one at that! He would tell this bastard exactly what he thought of him and his "offer", and-

And then pain. Pain like he had never felt before. Pain so excruciating that he was sure that his very bones were on fire, turning to cinder and ash as he screamed.

He was far more receptive after that.

...

He had allowed himself that one theatricality, making his entrance so dramatic. It never hurt to show those beneath you just who was in charge, after all. As the dust settled, he saw that he had caught the two off-guard, as they both stumbled back in shock. Not wasting a second, he immobilized them both, striding in to the partially-demolished domicile. He was going to enjoy this. Their faces were frozen in slack-jawed terror as the non-verbal _Petrificus Totalus_ took immediate effect, causing the Potter heir to drop whatever contraption he was holding, his eyes watching as it crashed to the floor.

"It has been many years since I have lived among the muggle trash, but it is nearly impossible to forget all of my early years, no matter how many times one contemplates obliviation. What was the phrase? Ah yes, I do believe it was 'trick or treat?'"

…


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey folks! Before I get on with the chapter, I figure that I may as well answer my first review. I count it as a milestone of my fanfic writing career, so despite the slightly rude wording, I consider it a victory. Any news is good news, after all. To answer the question simply: I know. The timeline alteration was purposeful, and considering this is a fanmade work, I feel that I may as well take a few liberties with the source material. I thought about sticking firmer to canon, but I figured that I may as well mold good ol' JKR's universe to fit the narrative. If you would like to continue this debate, my anonymous friend, I'll be sure to post our collective email address so that we can further discuss the minute points of canon, and their merits, or lack thereof. Until then, thank you for considering my take on our favorite boy wizard as a "good try" at the very least, and please try to look past my lack of "thought progression" and enjoy the story. Otherwise, I'm sure that there are a near infinite amount of stories on this site you could read if you don't like mine. Now, on with the story!**

He crouched by the railing of the stairs for well over six hours. His muscles never tired as he expected. So he waited. Petunia had stopped screaming at his mention of wizards. She had never gotten over her prejudice. How she could feel anything but amazement at wizardkind was beyond him. Lupin had even fixed his cracked windshield on their way to the pub one evening. People like that couldn't be all that bad! He was torn from his reverie by a series of pops going down the street. He bolted to the door, peering out of the mail slot to see that the street was almost completely dark.

Standing on the street was a bearded man holding what appeared to be a small basket conversing with...a cat? Before his eyes, the cat (which looked strangely familiar, now that he thought about it) changed abruptly in to that of a middle-aged woman who wouldn't have looked out of place in a Grunnings shareholders meeting. She had the no-nonsense look of someone who often dealt with ignorance, and was as straight-backed as any meter stick. Though he couldn't make out what they were saying, he could tell easily enough that his home was part of the conversation, as they seemed to glance to the door every few seconds.

They were clearly wizards, judging by the bearded man's odd choice of dress. Although the woman was far more conservative, she still looked out of place. He was content to merely watch for the moment, until the older man removed his wand from a hidden pocket, and began walking purposefully toward his front door. Petunia was a shrill woman with a multitude of terrible habits, but she was his wife for a reason, and he wouldn't let her come to harm, let alone little Dudley. With a fortifying breath, he flung the door open, charging toward the obvious threat that the old man posed. With surprisingly quick reflexes, he passed whatever the bundle was to the stiff-backed woman before quickly waving his wand in a vague "M" shape, effectively freezing him in place. Thankfully, his mouth was still unhindered. If he was going to die, he was going to tell these people exactly what he thought.

"Now you listen here! I know exactly what you are, and if you think I'll give up anything you're wrong! You hear me?! I won't let you blow up my family like you did James!"

That stopped them cold. It seemed he'd manage to shake them a little. If he had control over his muscles, he would've patted himself on the back, he was sure.

"Oh, that's right you murdering trash! I know all about your little plan. Pettigrew isn't going to survive the night, you understand? I'll wring his puny little neck myself if I have to. I'll-"

The old man held up a shaking hand. He almost seemed to be holding back tears as he spoke. "Please, young man. We mean neither you nor your family any ill will. Did you say Pettigrew? As in _Peter_ Pettigrew?"

"Oh don't play dumb you fossil. I know it was him who betrayed the Potters, and he's going to rot in Hell if I have to drag him there by his puny-"

"Young man, _enough_!" The woman erupted "That man is Albus Dumbledore, and you will treat him with _respect_ due to his station _._ "

The name sounded vaguely familiar, and it itched at his brain, even as the man chuckled slightly, his voice still sounding wet.

"Please, Minerva, let's not be too harsh. Now, Mr. Dursley, I am going to release you. I swear to you, on my very life in fact, that neither you or your loved ones will come to harm by any wizarding person tonight." He raised a bushy eyebrow.

With those words, Dumbledore's chest began to glow a near-blinding white, before it faded, leaving him breathless, and the woman seemingly shocked in to a stupor. "Will that be enough to stay your hand for now?"

He blinked, before falling flat on his face. James had told him about what light like that meant after the wedding had left him with more questions than answers. Even now, it rang through his head like peeling bells.

…

" _What in the seven rings of Hell was that?" He whispered to the newly married James Potter as they headed to the courtyard for the requisite wedding pictures._

 _The dopey grin on his face still firmly in place, he noticed with an eye roll, James seemed as if stuck in a trance. With an exasperated sigh, he gave the distracted groom a quick rap on the back of his head, which seemed to do the trick._

" _Hey! What was that for?!"_

 _Vernon met his eyes with a droll stare. "You spaced out again."_

 _The grin returned full force. "Oh, yeah… Mrs. Lily Potter. Has quite a ring to it, doesn't- ow!"_

 _He rolled his eyes again. It was going to be a long day._

" _Answer the question you love-sick sod! Why were you two burning brighter than candles back there? Is that normal for wizards?"_

 _He had the presence of mind to laugh. "Thought we would go up in smoke, Verno?" He was sure that he was going to give him a concussion if he had to keep doing that._

" _Ow! Quit_ doing _that! It's part of the magically binding oath we all go through." He muttered, rubbing the back of his head with a sour look on his face. "Almost all couples go through it in our world, although that's only if both parties are magical, of course. It signifies something becoming magically binding- the highest form of oath or agreement we can make. We break an oath like that, even unintentionally, and we either lose our magic, or die outright."_

…

His legs shook as he stood. If these people weren't here to torture him for information, then that meant they were on the other side, maybe even fighting like James did. The fact that they were alone couldn't mean anything good. "Yeah. You'd better come in." He said, already turning back to the house, only now noticing that his front door had a foot-sized dent in it's middle.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey there! Sorry the updates have been rather sporadic, but I've been working on digitizing the family cookbook and that's been taking up a lot of my time. For now, I think I've figured out a tentative update schedule. I plan on doing most of my writing over the weekend, and then editing and posting on Monday and Tuesday, with maybe a shorter chapter in the back half of the week if I can find the time and motivation. I think two chapters a week is fairly reasonable. I know the feeling of waiting on tender hooks for a new chapter to be released, so I'll try to keep instances of that to a minimum. Anyway, on with the show!**

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore liked to consider himself a grounded man. He tried not to let his considerable political power go to his head, although he did take advantage of the reduced shipping rates on lemon drops. He found his mind whirring, however, as he entered the Dursley household, forming and discarding plans as fast has he could. He was close to a solution, he knew it. It was just a matter of fitting the pieces together in the correct order.

Vernon Dursley seemed a pleasant enough man, if a bit quick to jump to conclusions. Granted, in the current circumstances, he thought his reaction quite reasonable.

As he crossed the threshold, the scene in front of him seemed out of place in comparison to the uniform, well-kept abode that he had observed from a distance. Appearances could be deceiving, he mused.

"Mr. Dursley, are you alright? Your home seems to be in a rather troublesome state of disrepair." He raised an eyebrow.

The man seemed to be coming off of some sort of large adrenaline high, and his weariness showed it plainly. "Yeah. That was the, uh vassal clause? I think that's what James called it."

Even that sentence seemed to leave him out of breath.

His other eyebrow rose. That was unexpected, and made the entire situation much more concrete in explanation. If James had somehow attached a vassal clause to Dursley, then that would mean that one of two things had happened. The first, and most unlikely, was that the Potter patriarch had made him swear an oath of fealty. Such an act was almost unheard of in this day and age, and he was sure that, as an heir to one of the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight', that James would have known the repercussions of such an act. Therefore, he _must_ be wearing a… "Mr. Dursley, are you, by chance, wearing a small stone around your neck?"

He blinked in surprise, before reaching in to his shirt and pulling out the thin, ornate chain that he had expected to see. "You mean this?"

Dumbledore nodded, his mind rearranging puzzle pieces accordingly as this new information entered the equation. It all made sense. The hastily made barricades. The rather heavy objects that seemed to be thrown around with ease. The golfing iron that was… yes, the golfing iron that was embedded in the wall. It all pointed to increased strength, and a slight irrationality most commonly seen in the berserkers of old. He seemed to be coming down from the high now that his "lord" had...passed.

All of this information was processed in the span of several seconds, the Chief Warlock's mind easily cataloging the information for later use. For now, as the young man nearly collapsed in to one of the few stable pieces of furniture in the room, he started mentally preparing his case.

He had to keep young Harry safe. He had made enough mistakes with the young Potter heir as it was. Now, it was time to rectify as many as he could. He would not fail him again. He couldn't.

…

Minerva McGonagall held small Harry James to her chest, instinctively trying to protect the child who was her grandchild in all but name. The charms on his blanket would dampen any sound that could wake him, and a simple _somnus_ had made sure that he would, at the very least, sleep till dawn. Potions weren't approved for infants until the two year mark, she remembered, old knowledge from her internship at St. Mungo's all those years ago creeping back in to the forefront of her mind for the first time in many years.

Until now, she had been focussed on quick fixes. Spells that would heal, and heal _quickly_ in the heat of battle. Sealing spells, cauterizing charms, and bandage conjuration were second nature to her now, and the thought filled her with no small amount of sadness. The change of pace was nice, if such gruesome topics could be called such.

She decided to let Albus handle the situation with Dursley. He was the Potter's executor, after all, and she had no inclination to disturb Harry, whatever charms were in place.

He had seemed like a good enough man. If push came to shove, she would be fine with letting young Harry grow up here, if only for one long-necked, horse-faced snag: Petunia Dursley nee Evans.

She had tried to remain unbiased, but the memories of consoling a distraught young Lily after her letters home were either returned unopened, or replied to with such vitriol and disgust that she would often feel the urge to burn them herself stayed fresh in her mind. Her students were like her children. Especially those she had grown close to over the years after graduation. Especially in times of war.

These special few were no different. From the first day of term those eight years ago, she could tell that great things would come from them for certain. It wasn't everybody who would defy decades of tradition to not only be sorted in to Gryffindor, and befriend someone from a rival family, but to look after a young lycanthrope as well. The scandal rocked the pureblood circles for months. When James Potter had not only not blinked an eye, but went along with the plan readily showed the true merit of his character.

They had all been special to her; every last one. From McKinnon to Longbottom and back, she had fond memories of them all. In the span of twenty-four hours, two more were dead, with a third being the cause. All because of the little bundle in her arms.

Furniture righted and repaired itself as she watched, rocking the infant as she did. She was had passed several celebrations just leaving the castle grounds. They had a right to celebrate, true, but all she could help feeling was a deep melancholy. For a moment, she was young again. A girl with a short temper, and powerful magic to match. She saw the drinks flow, and the fireworks burst. She saw drunken revellers singing in the streets. She saw families grateful to be alive, to be together and safe at last, and all it made her think was that it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to those who hadn't made it; to those who had been hurt beyond repair. She had lost family in the first war, though she had been too young at the time to understand.

She understood now, she could say. She understood what it was like to fight tooth and nail, with everything one had, and still end up on the losing side. She had lost friends, and colleagues. Family, and students. All because of one man, someone she still remembered from school, for Merlin's sake! All because of an idiotic goal of domination, extermination, and complete control over those he thought beneath him.

She would not let it happen again. She had not been old enough, then. She had not seen the signs. She knew now, all too well, and she would protect her students, past, present, and future, with everything she had, her own life be damned, starting with the sleeping child in her arms. She would not fail Harry Potter as others had. She would make sure of it.

 **A/N: I'll try to keep my notes shorter, or at least at the end of the chapter next time. No need to make you wait any longer than I have to to get to the story! Anyway, hope you're all enjoying it so far! If you are, or if you aren't, or even if you're just have an idea or two, shoot us a review! All news is good news, right? Happy Monday, folks!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey there! I'm sorry the updating has been out of whack, especially right after I talked about sticking to a schedule. My phone had some major issues over the last few days, and was, according to the people at AT &T very close to exploding. So that kind of took priority over writing, what with the risk of getting a face full of glass and plastic. I'm back on track now, so there's no need to worry. I haven't abandoned this little pet project. On with the story!**

Harry Potter was seven years old when he first noticed something was different about him. He and Dudley had been playing in the backyard when he had found a small, copper colored snake. Both of them had found the placid reptile fascinating, and had spent several entertaining minutes watching it. It had started to slither away after some time, and he had reacted as any child would have, and called after it.

"Hey, come back here!" he had shouted, moving closer. Dudley stood dumbfounded as he stared at his smaller cousin. The snake seemed intrigued as well, which was ood. Harry could never recall a snake being interested in people, let alone responding to their voices. He tried again. "Come here." He said clearly."Please?" He added. It never hurt to be too careful, after all.

The snake tilted it's head, a very human gesture. It slowly slithered toward him. It was only then that he noticed Dudley was looking at _him_ instead of the snake.

"What's up, Dud?" He asked as the snake slithered lazily up his outstretched arm.

Dudley only pointed at the small reptile, seemingly unable to come up with the right words.

The snake coiled around Harry's wrist, once more catching his attention. It seemed to examine it's perch briefly, before it raised it's gaze to look directly in to his eyes. " _The massster!"_ It hissed, startling Harry so suddenly that he fell to the ground in shock. The snake seemed nonplussed, and seemed perfectly content to keep talking. " _One descended of the Great One. The Mother Snake!"_

It went on like that for some time, and Harry was about to interrupt when Dudley finally seemed to get his voice under control and shouted, "You can speak snake?!"

…

Uncle Vernon seemed far less concerned then they thought he would be, considering that talking to snakes was generally considered unusual, not normal, and all together, just plain odd. In fact, he almost seemed relieved. He took both boys inside, sat them down on the living room couch, snake still coiled on Harry's wrist, and began to tell them everything.

…

Freakishness. That's all it was. There was nothing normal or acceptable about it. She repeated this mantra in her head over and over as she watched events unfold in her home that should never have even come close to this level of abnormality. She could not voice her opinion on the matter, of course, due to the special set of "wards" that old meddling freak had installed around _her_ property. Every time she tried to say something negative about the boy's... _kind_ , she received a mild electric shock. "Non-aggression wards" he had called them. They were a violation of privacy, is what they were. Not allowed to speak the truth in her own home. It was preposterous! Every time she had tried to bring it up, however, she had merely smiled, given the boy a compliment on whatever task he was doing, or his progress in school, and gone about her business. She had stopped trying years ago.

She had written to him, long ago. Asked if maybe he had a spot for her at his magic school as well. He had said, in many more words, that it simply wasn't possible, as only those with magic could enter the grounds, or even see the castle. She knew what it really was. A blatant dismissal. Since she wasn't magic, he didn't care.

Even her own parents took his side. Lily was always the favorite, with her looks, and brains, and charm to boot. It was infuriating. Even though she was the oldest, she was always the _other_ Evans girl.

It got better after Lily left, for a while. She could almost believe that she didn't have a sister at all. But like always, she came back. She came back more amazing every year.

She got out of the house as soon as she could. College, she thought, would be the perfect way to start fresh and reinvent herself. That too, for a while at least, seemed to work. She met Vernon, and with the news of their engagement some months later, her parents finally focussed on _her_ instead of her Freak of a sister. It didn't last long.

Despite he refusal to include her _former_ sibling in the wedding plans, her mother had written, and she had gotten a visit from her reviled sister the very next day. "Special permission from the headmaster" She had said with glee. "To help plan your big day." She felt sick.

Lily was better than her at everything. It figured that she had to get a better husband too. James Potter was a handsome man who, though mischievous- turned your father in to a duck for a good five minutes. He quacked for an hour. Isn't that just fascinating?- was polite almost to a fault. He disgusted her, and early on, it seemed that Vernon shared her feelings. Then, during afternoon tea in which she had been roped in to helping plan a wedding for the pair of freaks, something changed.

Vernon was gone for five minutes, came back with an ornate gold chain, and seemed more relaxed around the two of them then she had ever seen him. He explained later, what "James" (not Potter now, she noticed) had apparently told him. It made sense, but she refused to admit it. Bewitched, she had screamed. He was held under some curse! He had to be! But even with the chain off for a few brief minutes, he didn't act remotely like his old self. She had lost to her sister. Again.

She couldn't even win in death, when their stupid little brat had been thrust upon them. Vernon had jumped at the chance to take the boy in, and she had been practically forced to agree. The woman in glasses had glared at her with such ferocity that she couldn't help but stay her protests when Vernon took the boy to Dudley's room, laying them together as if the boy was _normal_.

"It's necessary, Pet." He had whispered that night. "Otherwise he won't develop a defense, like me. If they're going to be raised together, they have to _stay_ together. Just like Dumbledore said!"

She hadn't said a word. She was a prisoner in her own home at this point. And if she was going to be a prisoner, it sure as hell wasn't going to be a willing one.


	6. Chapter 6

**Happy generic day of the week! I had a rather quiet day at work, so I spent most of my downtime planning out this story a bit farther ahead than usual. I'm planning to finish this story before publishing anything else, but be on the lookout for something in the next few weeks, as I plan on posting a brief teaser as a chapter here once it's more polished. I've tried keeping up with the update schedule of posting on Monday and Tuesday, but as with every other time I try and get organized, something bad happens. In order to avoid my curse, I'm keeping things much more loose. I'll update at least twice a week, but I can't guarantee on what day. Just know that it'll happen. On another note, due to a death in the family, things have been a bit hectic, hence the later update. Now, on with the story!**

"Now, boys, tell me what happened. Leave nothing out." Vernon said soothingly. If his hunch was right, then he had some letters to write. Harry began his explanation, starting with finding the snake and his _conversation_ with it. He had never heard of such a thing. Definitely a time to write if there ever was one.

Dumbledore had been gracious enough to allow him to write whenever he had any wizarding questions in regards to Harry's upbringing. This certainly qualified. He snapped back to the present as Harry began talking about how it had called him "master" of all things. He chuckled at that. He couldn't imagine little Harry as master of _anything_. The boy couldn't even tame his hair!

The snake curled around Harry's wrist, which he had failed to notice until now, reared up and hissed. Despite it's small size, it made him jump nearly out of his chair. Harry quickly began...hissing to the snake, which slowly lowered itself, seeming to glare at him (could snakes glare?) as it moved back under cover inside his sleeve.

"Sorry Uncle Vernon. It seems to be...protective. It won't bother you from now on."

He _definitely_ had a letter to write.

…

Harry Potter found that conversing with a snake was not nearly as complicated as he thought it would be. All he had to do was look at it, and speak like normal! Who knew? Dudley tried as well, but the snake only seemed to look bored. Dudley also asked how he knew what a bored snake looked like, but he didn't have an answer, so they just assumed it was part of his "magic", as Uncle Vernon had put it.

The boys were sure that he was pulling their leg at first, but after a lengthy explanation and the promise of proof in the next few days, they seemed content to go along with things. Harry knew magic. Or at least, he would when he was older.

Harry was shocked to learn that his parents were also wizards- the _best_ Uncle Vernon had said. When asked why he hadn't been told sooner, Uncle Vernon had raised an eyebrow at the two of them and questioned as to who had spoiled his birthday surprise the last two years in a row the minute they were told not tell. They had understood after that, with no small amount of embarrassment. With the additional promise of a terrarium and supplies to care for his new pet, Harry quickly dragged Dudley off to his room to see just what his magic could do.

…

Rushing off to his small home office, he closed and locked the door. After taking a quick moment to organize his thoughts, he decided that the direct approach was best. Taking out ome stationary and an envelope, he wrote:

 _Dumbledore,_

 _Apparently Harry can talk to snakes. Is this normal? Is he sick? Send help as soon as possible. I don't want his new pet biting anyone- poisonous or not!_

 _-Vernon_

Satisfied with the letter in his hand, he took out a quill and ink (though why he couldn't just buy an enchanted pen was beyond him) and carefully wrote out the address on the envelope. Although he knew what would happen, as it had happened every time he had written a letter such as this, it still shocked him to see the ink glow a bright green, before fading to it's almost black color.

Content to see that everything had gone off without a hitch, he went down the street to drop in the designated mailbox, as he had been instructed to do so many years ago.

…

" _If you should ever need to contact me with any issues you are unequipped to handle, write a letter addressed to my office at Hogwarts using this ink." The bearded man had said. It's the same ink that we use to address the acceptance letters every year to the mundane-born and those living in non-wizarding neighborhoods. We have come up with a number of methods to keep our existence hidden, and this is one of my favorites, I must say. Merely drop it in a post box anywhere in England and it will find it's way to me."_

 _He didn't know what to say, so he just settled for nodding thoughtfully. Wizards were strange._

…

He nodded to himself as he reminisced. Wizards were definitely strange. He made sure to hurry back. Petunia would look after Dudley, but since she was unable to antagonize Harry directly, she would ignore him at any opportunity. It wouldn't be good to leave them alone for too long, protective magic or not.

…

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Harry?"

"Of course it is! What could possibly go wrong? Now let's try it." Harry said, a look in his eye that told his cousin that what they were about to do was definitely _not_ a good idea.

" _Abra Cadabra!"_ Harry intoned, pushing his hand toward Dudley like he had seen Darth Vader do during their last movie night. He hadn't expected anything to happen, so when his slightly larger cousin began to rise in the air, he almost gasped in shock. As it happened, seeing his magic in action caused him to break his concentration, leaving Dudley to fall gracelessly to the ground.

Neither boy spoke for a moment before identical astonished grins split on to their faces. Barely able to catch his breath, Harry laughed. "Wanna do that again?"

...

Once he had reassured himself that nothing had gone amiss, he retired once more to his office. He had two more letters to write, after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Salutations! I first off want to apologize for the extremely late update, but a health scare with some people I'm very close to kind of ground things to a halt for a while. I know that I'm not required, per se to update at a set schedule, but it was something I had hoped to stick to. I'll obviously try to stick to it better in the near future, but life has to come first in matters like this, so I hope that you all can understand. I hope that everyone is still enjoying the story, as I'm still definitely enjoying writing it. Before I forget, a special shout out to Lunaz, the one person to leave not just one, but three reviews that were not only coherent, but positive! This one is dedicated to you, my diligent friend! That's it for now, so enjoy whatever this chapter happens to be about!**

Sirius Black was awakened that Sunday morning not by his companion from the night before as he usually was, but by a near-freezing jet of water that nearly knocked his breath out of him.

"Wake up you lazy sod! We have to go!"

It was a common experience to get woken up like this by an overzealous Remus whenever something particularly exciting like a book sale was on back in Hogwarts. It hadn't happened in years, so it was an unprepared Sirius Black that, tangled in blankets as he was, tumbled from his now soaking bed in an undignified heap.

"Whah?" Was his rather dignified response.

"A letter, you mutt! From Harry!"

He shot up, hitting his head on the nearby bedside table as the information plodded it's way in to his hangover-addled brain. "The prongslet?! You could've led with that you idiot! Would've saved me the concussion you just gave me, too." He grumbled, rubbing absently at his head. "Now let me see."

The grinning lycanthrope handed over the letter, having already finished examining it's contents. It was almost impossible to read a letter with Sirius in the room. Having to answer a hundred questions really disrupted the flow. Now he just had to wait to see how Sirius reacted to the second paragraph.

Sirius began to mumble to himself as he read. "Sorry it's been so long...unable to keep a secret for his life...doing well...talking to snakes...spitting image of James...visit soon…"

Remus almost couldn't keep a straight face.

"Well? C'mon then! We can't waste any time! My dogson needs me!" He shouted, as he stumbled to the door, practically falling against it.

"Why won't this stupid thing open?"

"Sirius-"

"Never had a problem with it before, the idiotic-"

"Sirius, the door-"

"Quiet, Moony, I'm trying to get this door-"

" _Sirius!"_

"What?"

"The door _pulls_ open."

"I knew that." The Grim animagus muttered, exiting to the hall and resuming his run toward the parking lot. It was just as he reached the stairwell to the ground floor that he skidded to a stop, turning to stare at Remus in shock, his mouth hanging agape.

"He can talk to _snakes_?!"

…

The rather odd Dursley family had just sat down for lunch that Sunday when the doorbell rang.

"No post on Sundays." Mr. Dursley said, quickly taking a drink from his mug of coffee. "Get the door, Harry," said Uncle Vernon.

"Make Dudley get it."

"Get the door, Dudley."

"Make Harry get it."

Mr. Dursley looked up from his plate and heaved a sigh. The two were incorrigible when they were together, which was, of course, all the time.

" _I'll_ get it then, since you're both so indecisive." He sighed dramatically. He hoped that the act wasn't too heavy-handed. The boys had no reason to suspect anything, he knew, but Harry was often far too shrewd for his own good.

…

Petunia looked to Vernon, confused. She could tell when he was up to something, and judging by how he kept glancing toward the boys, could tell that it was something that she would just _hate._ She was halfway out of her seat when she heard something that she had prayed never to hear again.

"Vernon, it's been too long! Drink any pickle brine lately?"

"Sirius, for the love of Merlin-"

"No, I'm honestly curious!"

"Boys, just come in already!"

The Freak looked to her with questioning eyes. "Aunt Petunia, are you stuck?"

She was about to snap at him (as best she could, given her...limitations) when one of the dreaded voices stopped her cold.

"I think she's just in shock, Harry. After all, she hasn't seen your godfather or I almost since before you were born."

 **A/N: This chapter is far, far shorter than usual, I know, but while dealing with the above mentioned issues, this scene was stumbling around in my head, so I figured I would give a little tease before I did anything else. I'm padding the word count (and trying to make up for my absence) by posting that little teaser I..well, teased a few chapters back. See if you can guess what it'll be crossing over with and I'll do...something. Give you a shoutout or something? Guess we'll see. Thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Greetings! Hope everyone is well, except for the people who leave the TV volume on odd numbers. You're excluded for a reason. I'll do my best to post longer, more consistent chapters in the future, barring another family emergency. Life happens whether we like it or not, after all. I realize that it's been more than a bit, but I've been busy working on some non-fandom related work, so that's taken up a it of my time. Regardless, enjoy!**

Harry Potter had absolutely no clue what was going on. His Aunt Petunia was apparently stuck to a chair, Uncle Vernon was grinning like he did when he made a large drill sale, and two strange men, who apparently not only knew his aunt and uncle, but _him as well_ , were taking immense delight in ribbing Uncle Vernon about some embarrassing story involving pickle juice, a game of darts, and having too much of something called "firewhiskey", whatever that was.

Both strangers stopped talking when he stood up from the table, as if they had just remembered he was in the room with them. They both paled, and almost seemed to sway on their feet as they looked at him. The man wearing a leather jacket stepped forward, getting on one knee so that he was eye-level with Harry.

"Harry, my name is Sirius. I doubt you'll remember me," He swallowed thickly at that. "But I was best mates with your parents back during school, and I'm...well, I'm your godfather."

Harry was stunned. He hadn't known that he had had a godfather. Why hadn't Uncle Vernon told him? Something tickled in the back of his brain. "Are you a wizard?"

Aunt Petunia made a noise like there was something stuck in her throat.

Sirius grinned at that. "One of the best, if I do say so myself." He said as he dodged a slap to the back of the head from the other man who came in with his new godfather. "Right. This pugnacious fellow behind me is Remus Lupin, my roommate, live-in maid- ow! Moony, you're setting a bad example for the kids!"

At the mention of his name, Remus Lupin walked closer, although he seemed almost afraid to go anywhere near Harry. Uncle Vernon unceremoniously shoved him forward, before examining the wall to his right with an innocent look on his face, as the man, Remus, he told himself to remember, almost tripped.

"Harry, It's wonderful to see you again. We would've visited sooner, but-"

"Oh, it's okay! I know I can't keep secrets."

"That...wasn't exactly what I meant, but I suppose that's as good a reason as any." He looked behind his shoulder to Uncle Vernon. "Is it really that bad?"

His Uncle grinned. "Harry, what am I getting for Christmas this year?"

Dudley quickly tried to move across the kitchen, but before he could weave around the crowded room he had blurted out "A new set of golf gloves, a pen set, and a mug Dud and I painted!" He paused. "Oops." he muttered, turning beet red.

All Uncle Vernon did was grin "That answer your question then, Remus?"

Remus didn't seem to want to answer, as his mouth was tightly closed. Had he made the two new men angry? Their eyes were tightly shut, and they weren't making a sound. Until they were. Both almost simultaneously collapsed, laughing so uproariously that their laughter soon turned to mere wheezing, with the occasional glance toward Dudley, who had clamped a hand over his mouth as soon as he was within reach, which only set them off again.

"Harry," Sirius cackled. "That was the most brilliant bit of comedic timing I've seen in ages. Here," He gasped, his laughter finally dying down enough to get his voice under control. "You deserve a trophy for that." He grinned, before removing a long stick from his jacket pocket, flicking it at a dirty dinner plate, and turning it in to a large golden trophy.

Both boys were slack-jawed. Or rather, they both would've been if Dudley's hand hadn't still been clamped tightly across Harry's mouth. The two wizards in the room soon followed suit, as, before their eyes, a letter popped in to existence directly in front of Harry. It opened like a mouth, and began to speak.

"Dear Mr Potter," It said in what seemed to be an elderly woman's voice. "We have received intelligence that a medium level inanimate to inanimate transfiguration was used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine"

He saw that Sirius and Remus both looked incredibly confused.

"As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school." The voice switched to a dull monotone. "Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C".

Both men looked at each other, with Remus muttering something profane under his breath.

The letter switched to it's elderly voice again. "We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non magical community, more commonly known as Muggles, is a serious offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy."

The letter folded back in to plain paper, now motionless.

There was complete silence in the room as the paper fluttered to the floor. The silence was only broken by Remus as it hit the floor.

"Okay, what the _fuck_?"

 **A/N: I also deleted the fic teaser from this story. I'll repost as it's own separate work when it's more polished, as well as closer to completion. Thanks for reading! Shoot me a review!**


	9. Patience is a Virtue I guess?

**Hey there Potterheads! This isn't a new chapter, just letting you know that I'm not dead missing. I'm working on chapter nine currently, but inspiration is slow-coming. Have faith!**


	10. Update Two

Hey there! Again! Sadly, I won't be able to post a new chapter this month, as my (improvised) beta is currently indisposed at the moment. I'll post updates every so often, but please be assured that this story _isn't_ dead.

I'll delete the update "chapters" when things get underway once more. I wouldn't want to publish a work I wasn't satisfied with, so, as many game developers are fond of saying "It'll be ready when it's ready, and not a moment sooner." In the meantime, I'll be posting in my one-shots file to keep you wonderful people sated. The first chapter is up already, so feel free to check it out! See you on the flip side!


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